


Of Science and Faith

by Wordsplat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Religious Discussion, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsplat/pseuds/Wordsplat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Tony have a disagreement about the role religion should play in their son's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Science and Faith

"Tony?" Steve entered the workshop, depositing their lunch on the table his husband was working at as a preemptive apology for the discussion that was about to ensue. "I need to talk you about something."

"Shoot." Tony put down his project to pick up one of the sandwiches. Steve sat across from him, ignoring his own for the moment.

"You know that I grew up Catholic."

"Yeees," Tony drew out his answer, freezing just before taking a bite of the sandwich. Steve could all but physically see Tony's defenses go up, but then, he'd expected that. They'd had too many arguments about religion over the years for Tony not to be defensive about it. "This is a bribe sandwich, isn't it?"

"Yes," Steve answered honestly, "So eat it and hear me out."

Tony eyed him a moment, examining the sandwich indecisively.

"You're lucky you make good sandwiches," he said at last, taking a bite and waving his hand in a 'go on' motion.

"I always remember mass as being the one part of the week that was special. Set aside for something…more. We were poor and my mama was always gone, trying to make ends meet, but she never missed a mass, and she never let me miss one either. I got to see my aunts and uncles there, my cousins, my neighbors and…it was family, it was belonging. It was something that brought everyone together. I want Peter to have that."

"We live with six other people, Steve," Tony pointed out between bites, "And you just know Thor and Jane are gonna pop out a kid at some point. Not mention Nat and Clint if they ever get their shit together. Pete's  _always_  gonna be around family."

"It's more than that, it's—"

"If you need more, Pep's in and out so much she practically lives here, Rhodey pops in at least once a month these days, and I'm pretty sure Darcy's commandeering a floor of her own here once she finishes Junior Agent isolation training in Russia or where-the-fuck-ever, not that I'm even sure I want that weirdo around our kid. I mean, who else do you want him to see?"

"I know that. And I'm glad he'll be surrounded by people who love him, that's good, of course it is, but that's not what I mean." Steve attempted to rephrase himself. "It wasn't just seeing them, it was…being  _there_ with them, in the house of God, experiencing something more important, more sacred, than any one of us."

"Do the once a week near-death experiences count? Those bring people together."

"Can you stop being flippant about it, just for a minute?" Steve shot him a warning look. "This is a huge part of me, an  _important_ part of me. I want Peter to know what that's like."

"Look, I thought we already had this discussion." Tony sighed, conceding the jokes and jabs for a serious response. "I don't like it, and I really wish you'd wait until he's old enough to make his own decision about it, but if it's that important to you I told you I'm fine with it."

"Tony, I'm not talking about Peter. I'm talking about you."

"You said you wanted  _Peter_ to go."

"I said I wanted Peter to know what it's like to experience that sense of sacred community. You and I are the two most important people in his world, you don't think he's going to wonder why you never go?"

"That's a good thing! He'll know that people have a choice—"

"I'm not saying we shouldn't give him a choice, when he's older. I'm saying that while he's young, I want him to truly experience what it's like to be a part of that community, and he's going to feel like something's missing if you're not there. I always do."

"What?" Tony frowned, confused. They loved each other and were very close, but the inseparable, clingy honeymoon phase of their relationship had long passed. "What do you mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to explain, Tony." Steve linked their fingers together across the table. "Mass is sacred to me. It's one of the most important parts of my life. You're another. Not having both together…it feels incomplete."

"Steve, I…" Tony looked taken aback. "I'm sorry you feel like that. I am. And I wish I could tell you I believed in a god, but I  _don't._ You know that. You knew that when you married me." Tony voice was careful, measured in a way that meant he was trying to stay calm, but the lines of his face were tense, aggravated. "I don't know what else you want me to say."

"I want you to say you'll try it. It's just an hour—"

"Do you know the things I could do in an hour? I rediscovered a lost element in  _less_  than an hour—"

"That's not the same and you know it—"

"I'm supposed to just sit there and nod like a puppet?" Tony stood, beginning to get worked up. "Pretend I don't think it's all just bullshit for people who can't understand things the way I do?"

"Yes, Tony, please, make this about how intelligent you are." Steve rubbed his forehead in vague irritation.

"It's not about intelligence, it's about proof," Tony insisted, "I'm an engineer, a scientist; proof is how I  _function_. I work with physical things, tangible things. And there's physical, tangible proof against way too much of the Bible for me to seriously consider it."

"It's not meant to be literal, it's an allegory—"

"I know, I  _know,"_ Tony snapped. Steve couldn't blame him. This was a conversation they'd had too many times; there were too many old wounds and buried landmines associated with it to ever avoid aggravation entirely. "I didn't mean to say against the Bible, though there's that too, I just meant against a 'god', or any higher power, really. I just…I need proof."

"Which eliminates the entire point of faith."

"Which is why I find it pointless."

They stood there a moment, not quite angry at each other, but neither quite willing to relent. Then,

"Do you love me, Tony?"

"What?" Tony blinked, thrown off.

"I said," Steve repeated slowly, patiently, "Do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Prove it."

"Getting a little sassy for a man with a ring on his finger and a child three floors up."

"You can prove that we're married with a child. You can't prove you love me."

"Ex _cuse_ you—"

"You can't prove love. Right? Knock it down to science, and it's, what? Chemicals, hormones? Science barely scratches the  _surface_  of how I feel about you, and that's at best. Love—real, lasting love—is a human concept. A belief. I believe, with everything I am, that you love me. And with that same faith, I believe in the God that delivered me to you, seventy years out of my time. I believe in the God that gave us the strengths and abilities and opportunities to save the world. I believe in the God that helped us find our way to our beautiful, absolutely  _wonderful_ child. It's not the life I would have dreamed for myself in a million years. It was God's plan for me, and it is so—" Steve took Tony's face in his hands, kissed him hard. "— _so_ much better."

Tony didn't answer. Steve didn't mind. Tony wasn't ignoring him on purpose, but deep in thought; his eyes were already distant, the way they got when his thoughts went somewhere Steve couldn't follow. Steve pressed another kiss to Tony's cheek, and headed upstairs.

He didn't see Tony again all day, not until late that night when Tony finally crawled into bed sometime after midnight. Steve sleepily rolled over to pull his husband to him, more than used to how Tony could be and not really expecting their conversation to pick up again until the morning. Tony spoke up after a moment though, and he had Steve's full attention when he did.

"Religion's defined as a set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and or purpose of the universe." Tony turned in Steve's arms to face him seriously. "Yes, I looked it up. I…well. I'm still never going to believe in a god. You can't—don't expect that from me, Steve. But, however it happened, I've been blessed, for lack of a better word. Incredibly, impossibly blessed. You, Peter, the Avengers, everything. I've always liked to think of myself as someone who achieved things on my own, through my own power; escaping Afghanistan being a prime example. But it's not, is it? I wouldn't have lived through the night without Yinsen. And my life would be worthless without you, without Pete."

Tony took Steve's hand, twining their fingers together.

"I'm never going to like church. I think it's boring and stuffy and I will never be convinced that there's some higher power dictating our lives. Just so we're clear. But if god's what you believe in, I believe in people. More than anything, I believe in you. In us. And you're worth a hell of a lot more to me than an hour of boredom a week. So. Like I said, I won't like it, and don't expect me to start praying or anything, but...if it's that important to you, I suppose it won't kill me to go."

"Thank you, honey." Steve pressed his lips to Tony's softly.

"And if you're really going to be dragging me and our son to this once a week?" Tony pulled away, fixing him with a determined look. "We're all wearing suits. I don't care that you think they're uncomfortable, I don't care that Peter's a baby, he's a Stark baby, and Stark babies are dapper as fuck."

"Okay, Tony." Steve just smiled sleepily, pressing a kiss to his ridiculous husband's nose.


End file.
